utopia

When I was young I spent too much time on the breakwater that bordered the perimeter of the fish pond. My father had built them painstakingly to avoid the waves crashing directly against the dikes. Why I found it so appealing to pass hours after hours on the top of it, I don’t know. Maybe it was the serenity of the place or the fact that although it was not mine in some way I staked a claim on it and made it my own. My private domain where I can be who I wanted to be (mostly Sinbad the sailor or a pirate, a notorious renowned female pirate_ I used to draw images after images of her on every available surface including the wooden steps of our stairs_ and I did not have to share it with my siblings; I found the perfect place!

Much to my father’s chagrin who was so traditional, he believed in designated roles both for men and women. He asked me quite often that time if I fancy myself a fisherman or a mermaid. I could not answer him. It was not proper in our tradition to talk back to your parents. Everything they say is rhetorical. Attempting to do otherwise is courting a disaster. Best to shut up and listen. Always listen, and do what was told.

We have never been encouraged to voice out our opinions, something I very much longed to do because my father had a way with words. Everything that came out from his mouth was designed to make someone (especially us) feel worthless and dirty. (No, I am not whining!) Something he got in common with my ex. but I don’t want to dwell on that, I rather focus on today’s topic which is utopia.

Where was I? Ah…

I can still vividly remember the feeling My Own Private Idaho was evoking in me years after we moved to yet another place, and the accompanying longing to go back there again. I wanted to experience once more the sense of awe seeing the vastness of the land (when low tide) and the moody temperament of the sea (during high tide) they never fail to overwhelm me. It’s gone now. I cannot remember anymore the last time since I truly feel uninhibited and one with the sea. It’s lost among so many other faded laughter and forgotten memories.

I always find tranquillity there. Something I still feel a necessity for my restless, wandering tortured soul. (Wow!) There, I could think.

On that very top of heap of stones; I first realized (when I was eight) that the world has nothing to offer to me. (Yes! eight!) The very first time that I felt: “Been there, done that.”

There I found out that I could write stories in my head. More vivid and alive than on any paper. That I could change and shift them according to my moods, and as many variations as I wish. And the characters I created are real, with real feelings, hopes and dreams; just like us. These things always make me smile…

Just little nickpics – “that bordering” should be “that bordered.” Shouldn’t it be restless, wandering and tortured soul? Like I said, just little nickpics. I really liked it!! Your mood and descriptions drew me into the story.

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THE PAINT IN CHURCHES GETS WORN AWAY QUICKER THAN IN OTHER BUILDINGS. I THINK IT’S THE FRICTION OF THE SOULS. THEY GRIND THEMSELVES AGAINST THE CEILINGS AND WALLS.

IF I COULD REACH FOR SOMETHING BRILLIANT, THAT WOULD BE THE HOME WHICH BEEN DENIED TO ME AND THE PRESENCE OF THE PEACE I'VE NEVER KNOWN...

Why I write

I write to exorcise some ghosts (there are plenty) to make peace with my past, to keep sane, to let skeletons out the closet and occasionally let them dance naked, to vent. I write because I don’t know any better.

Healology

“Growing up, I always had a soldier mentality. As a kid I wanted to be a soldier, a fighter pilot, a covert agent, professions that require a great deal of bravery and risk and putting oneself in grave danger in order to complete the mission. Even though I did not become all those things, and unless my predisposition, in its youngest years, already had me leaning towards them, the interest that was there still shaped my philosophies. To this day I honor risk and sacrifice for the good of others – my views on life and love are heavily influenced by this.”

― Criss Jami

Musing

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

“I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.”

- Haruki Murakami

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

what are you afraid of?

Wanna tag along?

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The art of dancing

Kindred Spirits

Introversion

“...I also believe that introversion is my greatest strength. I have such a strong inner life that I’m never bored and only occasionally lonely. No matter what mayhem is happening around me, I know I can always turn inward.”

what i’ve been doing…

We were born to be free, to expand our horizons by going where we have never gone before, and not to hang out in the relative comfort and safety of the nest, the known. There is a place within us that is courageous beyond our human understanding; it yearns to explore beyond the boundaries of our daily life.

- Dennis Merritt Jones

Once I had started my solitude, I realized anew that it was easy for me to become accustomed to this state and that the most effortless existence for me was in fact in one in which I was not obliged to speak to anyone. My fretful attitude to life left me. Each dead day had its charm.

- Yukio Mishima

It well may be,
That we will never meet again,
In this lifetime.
So let me say before we part,
So much of me,
Is made of what I learned from you.
You’ll be with me,
Like a handprint on my heart.
And now whatever way our stories end,
I know you have re-written mine,
By being part of my life…

I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.